


Fatal Flowers

by BorealLights



Series: Tumblr Prompts and Requests [5]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Hanahaki Disease, I can’t believe my first work in this fandom is a shitty Hanahaki AU, M/M, Not Beta Read, Or was I just lazy?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22201558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BorealLights/pseuds/BorealLights
Summary: It starts as just a tickle in his lungs, like a cold. Except Geralt doesn’t get colds anymore, so it’s the memory of what a cold feels like. An annoying itch as he sits in a pub, listening to Jaskier sing.He ignores it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Tumblr Prompts and Requests [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1420699
Comments: 23
Kudos: 321





	Fatal Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> I’m really sorry about this. I,,, got tired near the end, and was almost to the max word count.
> 
> I’ve only watched the TV show, so... sorry for the inaccuracies.

It starts as just a tickle in his lungs, like a cold. Except Geralt doesn’t _get_ colds anymore, so it’s the memory of what a cold feels like. An annoying itch as he sits in a pub, listening to Jaskier sing.

He ignores it.

It happens again a few days later as he sits atop Roach, listening as the bard rambles on about some story or another. Geralt rarely listens when Jaskier goes off on his story tangents, ~~Geralt just likes hearing the sound of his voice~~ tuning the bard out as best he can. But his lungs itch as he side eyes his traveling companion, and he lets out a small cough. Jaskier doesn’t notice.

The third time it happens, Geralt takes more notice of it. Some enterprising bandits thought that the two would make easy targets… they were dead now, but Jaskier had gotten a nasty cut on his arm. Geralt didn’t feel fear anymore, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t felt a bolt of _something_ when the blade flashed close to the bard’s neck.

“N-no need to panic Geralt, I’m quite alright! It’s just-just a scratch!” Jaskier stutters out, though his face is pale. Thinking he might collapse, Geralt gently (well, as gently as he can) leads the bard over to a rock, sitting him down. The weird itch comes back, and Geralt coughs into his glove. Something… _flutters_ out of his mouth, and the sweet scent of flowers reaches his nose. Sure enough, two pink flower petals, damp with spit, are sitting on his glove. That’s not normal.

“Geralt? Are you all right?”Jaskier’s voice draws him back to the present. Shaking his hand to dislodge the petals, he grunts in affirmation.

“‘M fine. Let me see your arm.” Is all he says, taking his gloves off. But even while he tends to Jaskier, Geralt’s mind is on the flower petals. Something he read decades ago itches at his mind… but the details are foggy. Something about flowers in a person’s lungs? And it being fatal if left untreated. Fuck.

He needs to find Yennefer.

* * *

The coughing gets worse, so much so that it’s impossible to hide it from Jaskier. Even the most unobservant of fools would be hard pressed to miss the sizeable pink blossoms stained with blood that Geralt hacks up, and Jaskier, for all his many flaws, is highly observant.

While he has no knowledge of the disease, he’s quite happy to inform Geralt that the flowers are called zinnias, and they mean “lasting affection.” Not that he wants to know, but Jaskier rarely pays that any mind. (And if Geralt coughs up several large blossoms that night, well, that’s nobody’s business but his own.)

When they finally run into Yennefer, Geralt feels like he’s dying. Or, what he imagines dying to be like. Every breath is painful, and his throat itches as it constantly regenerates from being torn up. (Zinnias don’t even have thorns, what kind of strange curse is this disease?)

The two sit in a corner of the town’s tavern while Jaskier earns coin not far off, crooning out an exaggerated version of Geralt’s latest success. Geralt keeps one eye on him, even as he talks to Yennefer- the bard has a propensity for getting himself into trouble. In fact, he has a nasty feeling trouble is already on its way when Jaskier winks at a woman. An ugly feeling burns in Geralt’s gut, and, as such, he misses what Yennefer said.

“Geralt!” She snaps, and he finally looks at her. “I _was_ going to say we need to figure out who you’re pining over, but it’s safe to say that that’s the one part of this that’s easy.”

At his blank look, she mutters out a swear.

“Were you listening to anything I said, witcher?”

“...I was distracted.” Geralt admits, feeling the faint burn of guilt in his gut. He had asked for her help after all, and then ignored her to watch Jaskier. Yennefer rolls her eyes, breathing out through her nose.

“Pay attention, I won’t repeat myself again.”

Yennefer explains (once more) that, somehow, Geralt had caught a disease from the Far East, called “Hanahaki.” It causes magical flowers to grow in the lungs of those afflicted with unrequited love, slowly choking them until they died. The only cures were for the cursed one to confess to the one they loved and be loved back in return, or for the flowers to be magicked away through a complicated spell. The only side effect was that the cursed would lose all emotions for the one they loved. 

“...Must be a mistake in your information. I’m not in love. Witchers don’t feel, so we can’t love.” Geralt rumbles out, but even as he says them, the words feel like a lie. Yennefer fixes him with a blank look, clearly unimpressed.

“That’s a lie and you know it, Geralt. You definitely feel, and you _do_ feel love… Tell him how you feel tonight. If he doesn’t love you back, which I doubt, I’ll magic them away tomorrow.” Her voice grows unusually soft, and she gently places her hand onto his.

“Getting cozy without me?” Jaskier finally wanders back, looking pleased with the coins jangling in his purse, though he’s shooting Yennefer what could be a disapproving look.

“Tell him, Geralt.” Yennefer withdraws her hand before standing up, walking away with confident strides.

“Tell me what? I mean, I assume she means me. Does… does she mean me?” Jaskier asks, and it finally clicks in Geralt’s head. Oh. _Oh._ Suddenly, everything makes sense, and Geralt doesn’t try to stop the grin that spreads across his face.

“I’ll tell you tonight.”

And so he does.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, I’d appreciate a comment! If you didn’t like it, please don’t comment :(
> 
> Find me on Twitter @panda_spirited
> 
> Find me on Tumblr!  
> [Regular Blog](https://howdoistormspirit.tumblr.com)  
> [Writing Blog](https://borealwrites.tumblr.com)
> 
> Thank you, and have a lovely day!  
> _(:3」z)_


End file.
